


through a veil of light

by demonglass



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 80's AU, Found Family, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rural Setting, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, and they were roommates (in an unconventional way)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonglass/pseuds/demonglass
Summary: As the last dredges of winter give way to spring, Mark and his brothers move into an old, mountainside lodge, unaware that they are not the only lost souls to call the place home.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 20
Kudos: 36





	through a veil of light

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this first chapter wayyyy back in march right before quarantine started and then i promptly ditched it to work on my labor of love renhyuck fic (worth it, tbh) but now that we're coming up on the 1 year anniversary and i am once again stuck in the ugly clutches of winter in need of some Spring and Hope imagery in my life i decided to pick this up again so... here we are. i am writing markhyuck in the year 2021 & i hope u enjoy!

Day breaks cold and clear over the empty, echoing halls of the lodge.

Donghyuck runs past numbered rooms, making a racket to fill the place with sound—shouting, singing, forcing laughter, anything to push back the thick, heavy silence that has wrapped over everything. No matter how hard he pushes the silence away, though, it always pushes right back. There’s only so much he can do when he’s alone. 

It wasn’t always so deafeningly quiet, but these halls have been empty for so long, Donghyuck’s lost track of time entirely. It’s been ages since the last visitors came, too long since he’s last seen  _ anyone  _ walk these halls. Even Chenle has yet to come back again since he last disappeared. 

Donghyuck wonders when  _ he’ll _ go next—if there will be anyone here when he comes back. He wonders, but he knows it won’t be for a while; his mind is still sharp as ever, his being still rooted here in this lodge. Here he is and here he’ll stay, it seems. Just him and his empty home.

Out the windows he passes as he runs, glimpses of the mountains paint the walls of the hallway. It’s beautiful: small buds beginning to dot all the trees lining the hills to signal the coming spring—the only thing that gives Donghyuck a sense of the passage of time. It’s beautiful, even if it’s the same view Donghyuck has always seen, even though – just as much as it makes him feel painfully alive to simply watch the wind move the branches and leaves – it leaves him with an aching desire for more.

More, always more. Donghyuck always wants more than this, thinks there  _ must  _ be more, because this can’t be all there is. This can’t be life. He  _ knows  _ there’s something just out of reach, something calling him even though he doesn’t know how to answer. Some days it wears him down, some days it drives him up the wall. Most days it makes him run just like this, because it seems like that’s all the freedom he’s allowed.

So Donghyuck does just that: what he  _ can  _ do—just  _ going  _ as far as he can. Donghyuck decides to go up, to race the rising sun to the top of the world, or at least to the top of his. 

The stairs are old and wooden, and Donghyuck knows they creak under guests’ feet, but they’re silent as he climbs up. One floor, two, three. Down the third floor hall, there’s a trick door that leads to a small, closet-like space, with a ladder leading up to the roof. Donghyuck passes through the door, heads up the ladder, and emerges atop the building.

In the open air, Donghyuck feels like he can see the whole world. Certainly  _ his  _ whole world: mountains on three of four sides and trees stretching all the way to the eastern horizon. The sky is a deep blue sea overhead, but with each passing minute, it grows lighter and lighter. Gold begins to dust the edge of the woods, and as Donghyuck watches, it spills bright and glowing across the treetops. 

Even now, the sight fills him with awe. 

Dawn crawls slow and steady across the skyline, pushing out the darkness of night and setting Donghyuck’s world on fire. Everything turns to gold, warming under the sun’s touch. Light spills across the mountains and if Donghyuck were on the ground, he would see the windows of the lodge reflecting the morning sun, each one a star of its own. 

Birds begin to call out, chirping and fluttering on small wings in the breeze. The hills come to life, movement in every corner of Donghyuck’s eyes. It’s beautiful. It always is. 

But Donghyuck aches as he watches. 

The world glows with a warmth he can’t feel. It blooms with life he doesn’t have, is filled with wonders he can’t touch. Beautiful, but it can never be his. 

Donghyuck walks across the roof to the eastern ledge. He steps onto it without fear, sinks down and sits so his legs dangle off the edge. Below him, there are overgrown bushes, a gravel driveway snaking out into the trees. The stones of the drive have been undisturbed by tires for ages now, so long that grassy weeds have grown up through the cracks between pebbles. 

It’s been a long time since the last guests left and the doors shut for good.

The last owner had been lovely. She’d kept the building clean and lively, played music as loud as her record player would go. She’d talked all the time, almost like she knew Donghyuck was there listening. She’d danced while she tidied, always alive, always living. Some nights she even sang in the lounge for anyone to hear. 

Donghyuck had never been bored while she was home. He’d never felt closer to being  _ alive  _ then, either.

That had been the best time: when visitors came regularly, and even in between bookings there was never silence in the rooms or halls. At some point, another woman had shown up in a beaten old truck and brought a suitcase and a guitar into the lodge, and she’d moved into a room down the hall from the old owner. Other guests came and went, but that woman had stayed. Suddenly there was live music even when the record player was silent, laughter echoing through every corner of the lodge. 

Donghyuck never wanted it to end. The women had been old and gray, but they’d been so alive all the way to the end of their days that Donghyuck almost believed it could last forever. It couldn’t, of course, and it didn't, but still... Donghyuck had loved them. He doesn’t remember how long ago they’d died, but it feels like it’s been forever and a day. Too many winters have gone by without fires to warm the fireplaces. Too many seasons have passed over the empty lodge. And even now, he still misses them, feels their absence like an old, aching wound.

Donghyuck has been alone too long. 

Then, all at once, as if perfectly designed to pull Donghyuck from his thoughts, the sun emerges fully from below the treeline and shines right in Donghyuck’s eyes. For a moment, he’s blinded. He raises a hand to shield his face from the overwhelming brightness, and as he drops his eyes to the ground, his breath catches at the sight of the gravel drive; for the first time in years, there are tire tracks.

It’s like the world grinds to a halt just long enough for Donghyuck to forget how to breathe, before snapping back to full speed. Donghyuck’s eyes feel like they might burst right out of his head as he stares down at the black car rolling up to the lodge, coming to a stop right below him. His mouth hangs open, gaping, as the engine cuts and the driver’s door swings open.

A man steps onto the gravel. Even from this distance, Donghyuck can tell he’s tall and lean, has messy brown hair that’s just long enough to be pulled back. The man speaks, and Donghyuck is far enough away that he can’t make out the words, but the sound of his voice carries in the air, low and a bit rough. 

A second door opens—the passenger side this time. A boy emerges from the car, shorter than the driver, hair darker and nowhere near as long, but just as mussed. He speaks too, but his voice is harder to make out, softer. Donghyuck catches himself leaning down to try and hear better, corrects his posture just before he tips right off the edge of the roof. 

The two newcomers seem to be talking to each other over the top of the car, and Donghyuck itches to know what they’re saying.  _ Speak up, speak up! _ He’s leaning forward again, his perch growing precarious.  _ Why are they just standing there? Why aren’t they doing anything?  _

Finally, the boy on the passenger side moves. He pushes his door shut and steps to the side, opening up the backset. He bends over, top half disappearing into the car again. Donghyuck squints, and a moment later, the boy reemerges. This time, there’s a backpack in his hand, and he throws it over his shoulder. He steps away from the car, but doesn’t close the door to the back seat even when the driver shuts his. Just as Donghyuck is wondering why, he gets his answer.

A pair of legs appears from within the car, followed by the body of a third boy. (A  _ third  _ person!) As the boy stands, Donghyuck can see that he’s shorter than the driver, taller than the other boy standing next to him. His hair is the lightest of the three, and the messiest. His movements are slow, sluggish, and Donghyuck wonders if he’d been sleeping before the car pulled up to the lodge. 

The boy shuts his door and then the trio leaves the car behind, walking towards the lodge. Donghyuck watches in disbelief as the one who must be the oldest pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the front door. Donghyuck leans just a bit farther forward to see the lodge open up for the newcomers, to see  _ real people  _ set foot in the lodge for the first time in forever. He leans just a bit too far, and tumbles right off the roof.

Falling feels strange. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but the feeling is still foreign. He can’t feel the air rush over him as he plummets, can only hear it rush past his ears. This is all there is: the blue-gold sky flying away from him like it’s alive, the lodge blurring before his eyes, the drop in his gut that’s the only thing telling him his feet aren’t still on the ground. 

When Donghyuck meets the gravel drive at the bottom of his fall, he feels nothing. All that alerts him to the end of his descent is the sudden silence, and the stillness of the world around him, no longer spinning past him in a blur of color. The swooping feeling in his stomach is gone as abruptly as it had come.

Donghyuck jumps to his feet and hurries after the newcomers, slipping through the front door and following the sound of footsteps and voices. 

“—best condition and let me know. I want us all on the same floor, at least for now.”

Donghyuck turns a corner and finds the owner of the voice; it’s the driver, even taller than he’d appeared before. His body is turned away from Donghyuck, but his head is angled to the side, like he’s glancing back as he addresses the two boys following behind him.

“We get our own rooms? That’s sick!” The shorter of the two boys bounces on the balls of his feet as he speaks. The backpack slung over his shoulder thumps against him when he moves. 

The other boy slows his pace, twisting to the side to look at all the half-closed doors lining the walls of the hall. “Ground floor? Or do we go up?” 

“Up to you,” says the man, steps growing smaller as if he’s already realized one of the boys is falling behind. 

“I wanna go up.” The answer comes without hesitation.

The shortest boy comes to a stop. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t the ground floor be easier for—”

“Jisung knows himself better than we do, Mark,” the man cuts in, “if he says it’s okay to go up, then we can go up.”

Mark (he has a name!) sighs, the sound loud in the quiet, but he doesn’t argue. “As long as you’re sure,” he says to Jisung.

Jisung (he has a name too!) turns away from the rows of doors to his left, making sure Mark sees him nod. “I’ll be fine. A flight of stairs won’t kill me.”

“Right,” Mark nods, but his shoulders are still set, tense. 

Donghyuck wanders closer to the trio. He’s so curious he thinks he could die—if that’s even possible. 

“So, second floor it is?” The eldest has stopped walking and turned to face the other two.

Mark and Jisung nod.

“Okay.” The man faces forward again and begins to lead the boys down the hall again. “There should be stairs at some point. You two can poke around and get a feel for which rooms you want, and then we can bring all the stuff in. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Mark nods even though no one is looking at him. “What happens if we both want the same room?”

“Neither of you get it.”

“Johnny! That’s not fair!” The pitch of Mark’s voice increases with each word.

Johnny ( _ all of them have names! _ ) just laughs though. “Well then you two have to decide without me.”

“I’m sure we won’t want the same room anyway,” Jisung says. He looks younger than Mark, but seems much calmer. Or maybe… just more subdued. Donghyuck can’t quite tell.

“I know,” Mark says, “but just…  _ what if? _ ”

“We’ll figure something out. It’s not like there aren’t enough rooms for us to both like more than one.”

“True.” Mark nods and goes quiet, like he’s contemplating this. 

In no time, the group has reached the stairs, and they file up after Johnny. Donghyuck trails behind them, curiosity threatening to draw him in even closer to them. He wants to know so much more about them, and he’s  _ impatient.  _ After waiting so long for new people to show up, he doesn’t think he can stand another minute of not knowing. These people have names, but who  _ are  _ they? 

Upon reaching the second floor, Johnny splits off from the other two. He goes right, but points the boys left. “Remember this doesn’t have to be your room forever, so don’t stress too much about it. Shout if you need anything.”

“Gotcha!” Mark calls after him. Lowering his voice and angling towards Jisung, he says, “I want a room with a good window.”

“I want one close to a bathroom,” Jisung says.

Donghyuck laughs at the notion that any of the rooms wouldn’t have their own bathroom in a place like this. He supposes these boys have never been to an inn before, wonders what else they’ll do or say that seems silly to him. 

Mark’s steps falter as he walks. He glances back, looking right through Donghyuck.  _ Maybe looking for Johnny?  _ For once, Donghyuck doesn’t even feel the usual ache of not being seen, so excited by the presence of people again after so long. By the prospect of people claiming rooms, using words like  _ forever— _ the prospect of people  _ staying. _

Mark turns to Jisung again and hurries to catch up. “I think Johnny said all the rooms have attached baths. Must have been while you were sleeping.”

“Really?” Jisung’s voice is drenched in disbelief. When he twists to look at Mark, like seeing his face will prove he’s not yanking his chain, Donghyuck can see that Jisung’s eyes are wide with wonder. 

Donghyuck decides he likes them. Of course, he’d like  _ anyone  _ who finally filled the emptiness of the lodge, but he’s extra glad that it’s people like this: young and bright and earnest. He finds himself increasingly invested in how much the two of them like the rooms as he follows them down the hall—he might not own the inn, but it’s been his home for as long as he can remember, and he takes great pride in it, even when it sometimes feels like more of a cage than a haven.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Mark answers. “Let’s check it out.”

Jisung nods, and they push open the door to the nearest room, peeking inside before stepping through the threshold. Donghyuck slips in after them a moment later. 

“Look!” Jisung is pointing across the room. “There’s a door there. You think that’s it?”

Mark crosses the floor and twists the knob on the mystery door. When it falls open, he and Jisung stare inside. “It’s totally a bathroom!” Mark says, a grin tugging at his face. “It’s  _ so  _ choice to have a bathroom  _ right  _ in the bedroom!”

Jisung claps his hands together, and it’s the most animated he’s been since arriving. “That means I can pick any room!”

“Yeah!” Mark steps away from the bathroom and focuses his attention on Jisung. “Do you want to look at the rooms together? Oh… but what if we both decided we like the same room doing that? Should I start at the other end of the hall? Or—”

“You can do whatever you want,” Jisung cuts in before Mark’s thoughts can run away from him. He doesn’t say it like he’s dismissing Mark, just like he wants to make sure Mark actually knows it. 

Mark looks at Jisung, not quite sizing him up, but assessing him. “Okay,” he concedes, glancing away.

Jisung smiles, something small and endearing..

“I’m gonna go check out the rooms down the hall to see which has the best view. I wanna be able to see the sunrise in the morning.” Mark steps forward, heading for the hallway again, and Donghyuck steps back instinctively, even though Mark isn’t  _ really  _ coming towards him. Even though Mark can’t tell he’s there. “Call me if you need anything,” Mark echoes Johnny’s words from earlier. “Unless it’s a bug. Then you gotta scream for Johnny.”

“Got it,” Jisung laughs, and it’s the last Donghyuck sees of him before backing entirely into the hallway—his face split by a smile. It’s nice. 

Donghyuck hopes they really do stay. 

With his back to the wall outside of the room, Donghyuck watches Mark step out into the hall, coming within a few feet of where Donghyuck is standing. Donghyuck gets a good look at his face up so close; he has small features, face at once sharp and soft, and his eyes are dark like the midnight sky, magnified by round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He lifts a hand to brush through his hair, and Donghyuck is just a little bit entranced.

When Mark twists away and makes his way down the hall to examine the rooms to the left, Donghyuck drifts along after him. Pushing open creaking doors, poking around, sneezing from the dust, Mark checks room after room. In one, he walks right to the window and undoes the latch, sliding the pane up to let in the early morning air. 

Donghyuck wonders what it would be like to feel the chill of the breeze when Mark shivers in front of the open window. He wonders what the wind tastes like when Mark takes a deep breath in and grins, small and content. It must be nice, to feel something like that, to be able to touch the breeze and let it run through spread fingers like crystal clear water. It must be nice. 

Donghyuck leaves that room before Mark does, lingers in the empty hall and tries to clear his head. All this time alone and now people are finally here again—he should be excited, not thinking about things he can’t have. 

By the time Mark exits the room too, Donghyuck has gotten himself back under control. No wishing. Just watching these new people and trying to learn what he can about them. Learning what they’re doing here, whether they plan on opening the lodge once more. Now that he’s gotten a taste of company again after so long without, Donghyuck needs to know whether they’ll really stay, or whether they’ll leave and he’ll be stuck here, alone,  _ again _ . He’s not sure if he could handle that. He wants them to stay, thinks maybe he  _ needs  _ them to stay.

Mark moves to the next room, and right off the bat, Donghyuck can tell it’s in worse shape than the others. It’s not necessarily the way it looks, but there’s something about it. After casting his eyes around the room, Donghyuck lands on an overturned box leaning against the wall in the corner. He’s not sure what it is, what may be under it, but there’s a prickling sensation crawling up his back when he looks at it, when he steps near it. That’s enough for him to be wary—not for himself, but for Mark. 

Mark, it seems, feels no such warning. To Donghyuck’s dismay, Mark walks right towards the box on the floor, apparently unperturbed by its worn down state. He bends over once he’s within a foot of it, and reaches out like he means to prod at it.

“Don’t touch it!” Donghyuck wails though he knows it won’t be heard. He’s powerless to stop the scene unfolding before him.

But then Mark hesitates, so maybe he does have some sense after all. His hand stills in midair, fingers twitching. His back is to Donghyuck, so there’s no way for him to know what kind of decision Mark is making from the look on his face. Donghyuck can only wait with bated breath until Mark pulls his hand back slowly, straightens, and takes a few steps away from the box. 

Donghyuck lets out the breath he’s holding, relieved though he doesn’t know what exactly Mark has just avoided. 

Mark turns to look around the room again, eyes landing with weight on the doorway, like he’s considering just leaving right away. It’s funny, Donghyuck thinks, that Mark is almost looking at him despite not knowing he’s there. He’s just a foot off to the left of where Donghyuck is standing.

Mark steps forward and Donghyuck feels the urge to step back. It would be silly to do that when Mark isn’t walking towards  _ him,  _ so he stays rooted to the spot until Mark reaches the doorway, sparing the room one last glance before making a hasty retreat. Donghyuck, too, glances once more at the box in the corner, wondering what about it is off-putting, hoping he doesn’t find out. He follows Mark out into the hall.

Mark looks through two more rooms without incident, checking the windows and (to Donghyuck’s relief) not coming across any more strange things on the floors. It’s strange for Donghyuck to suddenly see the lodge through the eyes of a newcomer. All the things he’s grown used to seeing all at once become the most important things in the world. Everything is noteworthy: how easily the windows open despite their age, how thick the layers of dust are over everything, how barren some of the rooms are, how eerily beautiful the slanting morning light is as it paints itself across the walls and floors.

Mark’s eyes dance over everything, alert like he’s cataloguing each sight and sensation. With every breath, Mark looks so alive that Donghyuck can barely tear his eyes away to observe the rooms as well. 

He’s backing out of the current room, a few paces ahead of Mark, when movement draws his attention to something new. Down the hall, Jisung has appeared again. Donghyuck sees him right before he disappears through one of the doors, and almost dismisses it. It takes Donghyuck until Mark has crossed the hallway and is almost inside a new room himself to realize why the sight of Jisung walking into that room a few doors down seems important. 

_ Wasn’t that room… _

A loud yell cuts through the otherwise silent hall. In an instant, Mark is out of the room he’s just walked into and booking it in the direction of the scream. He’s almost there when Jisung runs out into the hall too, eyes wide, but unhurt.

“What—”

“Rats!” Jisung yells, throwing a hand out to point at the room as he runs towards Mark. “There are rats!”

Mark skids to a stop as Jisung reaches him and hides on his other side like Mark is a human shield. Donghyuck can’t help but let out a surprised laugh at the way Jisung is still entirely visible even as he cowers behind Mark. Mark lifts an arm as if to keep Jisung from stepping forward again, and takes a step back himself. 

“Johnny!” The two of them call out together, voices high and panicked. 

“Go into that room,” Mark says, lower, just as urgent. 

Jisung backs into the room like his life depends on it, disappearing behind the cover of the walls. Mark shuffles backwards until he’s just outside the door, eyes glued to the floor, watching for rats. Donghyuck slips past him and into the room, standing just behind Mark, one eye on him, one on Jisung. 

“Johnny!” Mark calls again, “We need you!” 

After a tense moment with no response, Mark takes a step forward, glancing between Jisung and the hall, face tight with worry. He looks torn, unsure of what to do until— 

“I’m coming!” Johnny’s voice comes from down the hall, followed by heavy footsteps. “What’s wrong?”

“There’re rats in that room!” Mark warns as Johnny rounds the corner at the end of the hall. “And Jisung is— ” Mark turns away from the hall to check on Jisung. His eyes widen.  _ “Shit!”  _ Mark takes two quick steps into the room, tosses the backpack from his shoulders, and kicks the door closed, hurrying over to Jisung.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jisung has one hand braced on the dusty mattress and the other pressed against his chest. His shoulders heave as he struggles to breath, face twisted in pain. 

Mark reaches the bed and sits next to Jisung, lifting a hand to his shoulder to hold him up. Mark’s movements are careful despite the urgency with which he moves. “Hey, you’re doing good, just breathe. In and out. Johnny’s gonna deal with the rats and he’ll be here soon. You’re okay.”

Jisung nods, swallowing hard and closing his eyes. He gets halfway through a deep breath before his chest shakes and all the air comes rushing out of him. Jisung’s eyes open and Donghyuck finds that he’s moved closer to the bed without even realizing, that now he’s close enough to see fear in Jisung’s eyes. 

Jisung breathes in again, short and stuttering, before he deflates again. Mark shifts closer and the arm he has holding Jisung up strains. “You’re good, you’re good,” he says, “just keep breathing. It’ll get better.”

Jisung nods again, but he’s listing to the side, and a moment later, his hand goes limp on the mattress. Mark grunts and lifts his other arm, wrapping it around Jisung’s back to offer more support. “Keep breathing,” he urges. His voice is tight, face growing pale as Jisung’s flushes more.

Jisung struggles through another round of half-breaths and heavy exhales, alternating between squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on something Donghyuck can’t see. Mark murmurs to Jisung and holds him up as he slumps over. Time drags on, feels frightfully slow as Jisung shakes, and the sound of his labored breathing fills the room, impossibly loud. The moment seems like it won’t ever end.

But slowly, Jisung steadies. Leaning almost entirely against Mark, Jisung starts to manage full breaths, dragging air into his lungs and letting it out without looking like he’s choking on each attempt. Some of the tension eases from Mark’s face, and the fear in Jisung’s eyes fades, though the pain painted across his face remains. 

Within minutes, Jisung’s breathing has returned to normal. He inhales, looking haggard, still flushed red, and lets out a long breath. All at once, every muscle in his body seems to give out. It’s like he turns to liquid. If not for Mark’s secure hold on him, Donghyuck is sure Jisung would have gone sprawling across the floor. 

“I got you,” Mark says, appearing – at least by this – unphased. He shifts on the bed and angles towards Jisung so Jisung’s head can rest more easily on the junction of his shoulder and neck. Mark keeps one arm around Jisung’s upper half and lets the other drop down to hold Jisung at his middle, running his hand up and down Jisung’s back to soothe him. “You’re okay.”

Their movements look practiced, familiar. Donghyuck realizes this must not be an uncommon occurrence. The thought worries him more than the now dashed possibility that this was a one-off incident. 

Now, without the too-loud sound of Jisung’s breathing, Donghyuck can hear commotion outside the room. He tunes into it just a moment before a loud slam carries down the hall, the force of it rattling their closed door. Donghyuck almost wants to go investigate, but before he can decide to leave the room, the rattling of the door is cut off as it’s thrown open.

“Jisung! Mark!” Johnny barrels into the room, crossing the room in less than four long strides and sinking down to his knees in front of the boys. “Are you okay?”

Jisung turns his head on Mark’s shoulder and nods as best he can, the movement weak. 

Johnny lets out a heavy breath. “The rats are stuck in that room now. I don’t know if there’re holes in the walls or anything, but I’ll deal with it later. I’ll get help if I need it, so don’t worry, all right?”

Jisung makes a small sound of affirmation at the back of his throat. His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Johnny looks between Jisung and Mark, and his shoulders are set, tense. “Do you feel like you’re going to faint?”

Jisung shakes his head. 

“Dizzy? Lightheaded?”

Jisung nods. 

“Does it hurt?” Johnny’s voice is soft when he asks, almost sad, like he already knows the answer.

Jisung nods again, the hand he has fisted in the front of his shirt going white-knuckled before easing. 

“You should rest,” Johnny says. He reaches for Jisung’s free hand and holds it gently. “I’ll go get some things from the car and make up a bed for you, okay?”

Jisung opens his mouth, but Johnny squeezes his hand before he can say anything, and after a moment, his mouth falls shut. Somehow he sags even more.

“It’ll just take me a few minutes. I’ll make sure the room is clear and then you’ll be all set. Mark will stay with you until then.”

“Mhm,” Mark nods in agreement. 

Jisung doesn’t protest, so Johnny squeezes his hand again and rises to his feet. Before leaving, he rests a hand on Mark’s free shoulder and gives him a look that’s both apologetic and grateful. Mark offers a small smile in return, nodding in answer to an unvoiced question. Johnny squeezes Mark’s shoulder and then leaves the room. 

The door left open, Donghyuck watches Johnny turn down the hall, and is torn between following Johnny to make sure he doesn’t run into any trouble like the boys, or staying where he is, feeling like an intruder although his presence isn’t known. In the end, Johnny’s strides are too long and quick for Donghyuck to make up his mind before he has already vanished, so Donghyuck is left hovering near the door, still within the confines of the room.

He turns back to the bed, shifting to the side to get a better angle, but he doesn’t move closer again. He can watch from afar—that’s what he’s used to, what he’s good at. From here the feeling of  _ other  _ is somehow stronger than it had been before, but he knows it’s for the best. That’s what he  _ is,  _ after all. A passive observer, always an arm’s reach away.

Knowing it’s an inescapable truth doesn’t make it much easier, though.

Before Donghyuck can get lost in his thoughts, he’s drawn back to the present by the sound of sniffling. His eyes focus, zeroing in on Jisung. The boy’s face is barely visible, half buried in Mark’s shoulder, so Donghyuck struggles to make out the details. He doesn’t need to see Jisung’s face clearly, however, to know that the sound is coming from him. If he looks up and just a bit to the right, he can see Mark’s face, twisted down with a sadness that seems to have weight. Mark’s eyes, too, are heavy as he looks at Jisung.

Donghyuck recognizes this look. It’s reserved for loved ones. It’s a look of helplessness, of someone unable to ease another’s burden, to do anything but acknowledge their pain. 

“It’s not your fault,” Mark murmurs. “Neither of us blame you. Not ever.”

Jisung sniffs louder. “I know,” he chokes out. 

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, either.”

Jisung says nothing, but when his lips part so he can draw in a breath, a small sound slips out, wounded. 

Donghyuck takes a step backwards. His curiosity is at war with the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be here, stronger now than ever.

Mark shifts his hold on Jisung. “Come on,” he says, “I’m tired too. I barely slept at all on the way here. Let’s scootch over to the headboard.”

Jisung lifts his head, and Donghyuck gets the full view of his face, streaked with stray tears. He takes another step back, in the doorway now. 

Jisung peels himself away from Mark and the two of them shuffle across the mattress to the headboard. Mark sits with his legs crossed, back leaned against the wood, and Jisung crawls into his lap. Lanky limbs stretch out well past Mark’s body, and he looks buried under Jisung, but then Jisung curls up so his head is on Mark’s chest and his legs are bent at the knee, halving their size, and he  _ shrinks _ . Mark wraps an arm around Jisung like he’s cradling a child, and his head dips to rest atop Jisung’s. 

And then everything is still.

Mark’s eyes fall shut just as Jisung’s have, and not another sound comes from either of them.

Donghyuck looks away, turns so his back is to the room, and walks down the hall. He follows the only sound in the lodge to find Johnny down a flight of stairs, arms full of baggage as he crosses the floor. His face is drawn in tight, the same look about him that Mark’d had. He moves quickly, but with care, so as not to drop anything on the ground. 

As Donghyuck watches, Johnny treks back up the same stairwell Donghyuck had just come down himself, so up Donghyuck goes again. Trailing along behind him, Donghyuck watches Johnny head right at the corner where the floor branches in two different directions. He breezes past the open common area, huge white sheets draped over all the furniture. With each step, they move farther from the room Mark and Jisung are holed up in. This means they’re farther from the rats too, though. 

About halfway down the hall, Johnny stops and turns into an open room. The windows face the mountains, just like the ones in the room Donghyuck just left behind, but the hall this room is part of runs perpendicular to the other, so the angle is different. Whereas the last window had pointed straight west, and the room had been dark due to the absence of sun shining in, this one faces south, and is bright in the morning light.

Johnny sets everything in his arms down onto the bed, and then circles the room, checking every corner for something that might be out of place, for any nook where rodents might be hiding. When he finds nothing and deems the room clear, he moves for the windows he must have already opened on a first pass through the room. Hung on a wooden rack, curtains rest at either side of the panes, and Johnny reaches in both directions, gripping the fabric and giving both sides a firm shake. Dust billows out into the room, and Johnny coughs, turning his head away from the small cloud. When it settles, he shakes the curtains again to knock the stiffness of disuse out of them, and lets them drop.

Without delay, Johnny steps back to the bed. Everything he’d set down on it, he picks up again, stacking it all on top of the widest suitcase. With the small tower a few feet from the bed, Johnny lifts the mattress and stands it on its side atop the wooden support beams of the bed frame. With one hand holding it in place, Johnny uses his other to deliver a few hard  _ thwacks  _ to the mattress. 

Again, dust billows into the air. This time, at least, Johnny looks away before it hits him. When the air clears, Johnny flips the mattress onto its other side and repeats the motions. Less dust flies into the air than before, so Johnny wastes no time waiting for it to clear before lifting the mattress clear off the bed frame and shaking it out a third time.

When Johnny seems satisfied with the state of the mattress, he settles it back down on the bed and returns to his things. He first grabs a sheet and fits it over the mattress, then retrieves the top sheet and a blanket to lay over it as well. Lastly, he tugs a thin pillow and a case that matches the sheets out of the suitcase. The pillow expands as it escapes the confines of the luggage, but not by much. Johnny slips it into the pillowcase and sets it on the bed, just shy of touching the headboard.

As soon as he’s finished making the bed, Johnny leaves the room in a hurry. Donghyuck has to race down the hall after him to keep up, and he realizes hardly any time has passed since he last ran this way. It seems almost impossible that just before sun-up he’d been racing through the corridor simply to have something to do, forcing laughter to fill the silence. Now he’s moving with purpose, moving towards  _ real people _ who are in the lodge with him. 

Johnny’s footsteps make just a simple, repetitive noise, but it’s everything Donghyuck has wished for all this time. It’s a sound that tells him he’s not alone, and he cherishes it.

They pass the common space and start moving through the hall where the boys are. Johnny glances in every room to his right, not sure which he’d left Mark and Jisung in, until they’re just over halfway down the corridor. 

Johnny comes to an abrupt halt outside a half open door, and Donghyuck knows he’s finally made it back to the boys. Though Johnny turns his body towards the room, he doesn’t step into it. There’s a strange look on his face, one that Donghyuck can’t quite parse. He looks both happy and sad all at once, frozen in time, looking in at Mark and Jisung curled up together on the bare, dusty mattress. 

After a long moment, Johnny finally breaks free from whatever has come over him. He steps into the room and crosses the floor, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed. With careful hands, he reaches for Jisung and eases him away from Mark.

The hand Mark had wrapped around Jisung has gone limp, and his head has fallen back against the headboard in the time it’s taken Johnny to put together the bed in the other room, so there’s no resistance when Johnny moves Jisung’s head to rest against his arm, and slips his other arm under Jisung’s legs. In one steady motion, Johnny lifts Jisung up into his arms like a child, and holds him close to his chest. 

Only once Johnny has taken a step back from the bed, set to carry Jisung away, does Mark twitch. The twitch in his arm spreads to his legs, and between one moment and the next, Mark’s head drops down towards his chest, knocking his glasses out of place and waking him completely. His eyes blink open in confusion, and panic flashes across his face when he finds himself alone on the bed, but it fades just as quickly when he looks up and sees Johnny in the middle of the room, Jisung secure in his arms. 

Mark deflates with relief, air rushing out of his lungs as he sighs, “I didn’t really think I’d fall asleep.” 

Johnny pauses where he stands. “You should come, too,” he says, voice low so as not to disturb Jisung’s rest. 

Mark looks at the two of them, eyes slowly sharpening with clarity. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, considering, before nodding. He adjusts his glasses and scoots off the bed, movements sluggish. Before following Johnny out the door, he grabs his backpack from where he’d discarded it on the floor.

Mark trails after Johnny much like Donghyuck has been following the group around since their arrival—silent but steadily. When they reach the door to the stairs, though, Mark pauses. “I’m gonna get his pillow from the car,” he says.

“I’ll leave the room door open,” Johnny says over his shoulder.

Mark hums in understanding and heads down the stairs while Johnny carries Jisung the rest of the way down the hall to the room he’s set up. Donghyuck follows Johnny to see Jisung laid safely onto the bed and tucked under the covers. He barely stirs as Johnny arranges the blanket over him, or when Mark appears a minute or two later with a thicker pillow clutched in his hand, and Johnny lifts Jisung’s head up enough for Mark to place the pillow under him. 

The relief in the room seems to be palpable after Jisung is fully settled on the bed. Mark discards his backpack on the floor once again, and sinks down onto the foot of the mattress, resting his hands on his knees. Though it looks like he’s doing his best to hold his head up, it hangs like a wilting flower. Johnny sits down beside Mark, careful to avoid Jisung’s legs under the blankets. 

“You did a great job, Mark.” Johnny rests a hand on Mark’s shoulder, offering him a smile even though he’s not looking. “You always do.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, but Donghyuck thinks he leans towards Johnny, into the touch. 

“You’re the best brother he could ask for, that  _ I  _ could ask for.”

Mark shakes his head. “I just—” his voice shakes “—I feel like I can’t do  _ anything _ . I can’t help at all.”

“That’s not true,” Johnny says. It’s barely above a whisper, but there’s so much certainty in those words. “You help more than you know, more than I can say. Even if you didn’t do  _ anything _ , just being there would still help. You hear?”

“You don’t ever feel the same?” Mark asks. “Helpless?”

Johnny purses his lips. “All we can do is our best. All we can do is take care of each other. We can’t control anything but that, so you shouldn’t worry about it—you’ll just have wrinkles by the time you’re my age. None of us want that.”

Mark lets out an exhale that might almost be a laugh. He still seems like he wants to protest, but he doesn’t look quite as gutted as before. “Okay,” he says, lifting his head up, eyes sweeping up and over Donghyuck before landing on Johnny. “I can do that.”

Johnny smiles, and it’s a small thing, but even Donghyuck can see the love in it. “Sounds good.”

“Right,” Mark nods, “so what do you need me to do to help now?”

“I think I’m gonna need you to hit the hay,” Johnny says. His tone is light, but his face says he’s serious.

“What?” Mark’s brows furrow. “I should help. Do we have a plan for the rats, for rooms, for—”

“I’m working on the plan. For now, since I don’t want us stumbling into any more messes, there’s nothing you need to do, so you should rest.”

“But—”

“You kept me company almost the whole ride, Mark. You must be tired if you fell asleep sitting up in the other room. And this bed is all set up now anyway.”

Mark seems unconvinced.

“It’ll be more helpful if you rest up now so that you’re charged up later when I need you,” Johnny explains. “And you know Jisung hates waking up alone after episodes.”

This seems to be the last nail in the coffin for Mark. The fight drains from his body just like that. “Okay,” he concedes. 

Johnny pats Mark’s shoulder as he slumps with defeat. “I won’t go too far, okay? There’ll be food when you wake up again—better than what we had in the car.” Johnny stands, leaving Mark slightly off balance on the mattress. Before he leaves the room, he pulls one last thing out of the baggage he’d brought up: a throw blanket. As he passes it to Mark, Donghyuck can see sunlight seeping through holes in it. Donghyuck leans in for a closer look, and finds that it’s not ratty and tearing, but hand-knitted. 

Mark accepts the blanket with a soft thanks, and wraps it around himself as Johnny crosses the floor. Hand on the doorknob, Johnny gives the boys – his brothers – one last smile, small but reassuring. “See you in a bit,” he says.

“See you,” Mark echoes.

Johnny steps through the threshold and Donghyuck slips out after him, just before he closes the door on the sight of Mark, curled up on the foot of Jisung’s bed like a cat.

As soon as the door clicks shut, the look on Johnny’s face shifts. Donghyuck’s attention is still half on the image of Mark, so he misses most of the change, but one moment Johnny’s eyes are warm and fond, and the next, they’re tinged with red. He looks impossibly tired. 

“Ah,” he sighs, “what am I going to do with them.” His voice is thick. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, and it’s tall, but not much taller than he is. “I hope this was the right choice.” One hand comes up to rest on the peeling wallpaper. “You’ll take care of us, right?” 

Donghyuck freezes. Does Johnny know he’s there? Is he talking to him?

But no, he’s running his fingers down the wrinkling flower print, eyes surveying the hall. He has no idea Donghyuck is his silent audience. “We’ll patch you up and you’ll be beautiful like the pictures again. Please take care of us, too. We’re in this together.” 

He’s talking to the lodge. Donghyuck blinks at him, amazed. “You’re really something,” he says, though it falls on deaf ears. And, well, Donghyuck isn’t sure if the lodge can hear Johnny, can do what he asks, but he knows that  _ he  _ has heard Johnny.  _ He  _ can do what’s been asked. 

He thinks of Jisung, amazed by rooms with attached baths, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe. He thinks of Mark, his dark eyes sparkling in morning sun, his face torn with doubt and worry. He looks at Johnny, setting his shoulders and heading off down the hall again, mumbling a to-do list under his breath. Donghyuck has little trouble making a decision. 

If Johnny, Mark, and Jisung are going to take care of the lodge – of Donghyuck’s home – if it’s going to be  _ their  _ home too, then Donghyuck will help. 

Even if it’s just through whispers, even if it’s just from the shadows, Donghyuck will do what he can to take care of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> i do not want to beg but i will ask once... pls let me know what you think !


End file.
